Child
by White-Starcloud
Summary: She doesn't get along with children. She knows she is not cut out to be a mother. And yet, a child from the future, her child, wanders on this camp. Based on Tharja/Noire's rank A support.


**At first, I just randomly placed Tharja together with Stahl, but right now it's one of my favorite pairings in-game. I loved their support and I also do not understand all the hate the mother/daughter relationship Tharja and Noire get. True, Tharja may not be the best mother, but if you carefully read their support I can clearly see she cares for Noire.**

**A lot of things in here are based on their support conversations. English is not my first language, but I do hope you enjoy this short story!**

***Edit 12 sept 2016, fixed some small things.**

* * *

"Tharja? are you in here?"

Stahl pushed aside the flap of the tent and swiftly slipped inside before closing it again.  
As expected, she was there, standing with her back turned towards him. Her mind was focused on the tiny piece of paper laying in the middle of her desk. All sorts of herbs were scattered around her, and magic circles, written in a language he could not understand, were carved into the wood around the paper.  
He recognized some of the herbs as the ones he had collected for her. True, he may be a warrior, but his father is a well known apothecary in Ylisse. As a young child he loved watching and helping his father create medicine, and in exchange, the man glady taught him the secrets of the art.  
Having this knowledge was a talent his wife, Tharja, more that appreciated.

He smiled and aproached her with silent steps, circling his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Usually, she would give him a fast, short and harsh answer before continuing with whatever curses or potions she had been making. But it was exactly because of this that Stahl knew, the very second she showed that little bit of surprise when he hugged her, just that little shiver that clearly implied she didn't notice him coming in, something was wrong.

"Ah, Robin asked me for a favor, which I'll, naturally, _glady_ fulfill" she calmy responded while fumbling with the paper in her hand, as if trying to hide whatever it was from his eyes.

Stahl eyed her movements carefully and tightened his hold on her before letting out a sigh and giving her a soft kiss on the neck.

"You're lying"

Tharja gave him an annoyed scowl but didn't reply.

"Tharja, it's not like you to wear such a heartbroken expression."

"And it's not like _you_ to walk around without food on your mind."

"Oh, but I _am_ hungry if that's what you're implying" he responded trying to lighten the mood.  
His lips slowly traced the soft skin on her neck, giving her little pecks and leaving small red spots on creamy white. A small satisfied smile formed itself on his lips when he felt her shiver.  
Tharja couldn't control the blush on her cheeks. She was, no, _is_ a dangerous person. Her talents in dark magic are exceptional and everyone in the camp knows that. The Plegian dark mage Tharja, uncaring and unwavering, yet here she is blushing like a lobster to her husband's touches. They both knew that it was a face only one person on this earth would every live to see, and Stahl knew very well how to make use of it. Yes, he was right, it's not like her to show her emotions like this and yet, right now, there was nothing she could do about it. Despite their little moment, her mind was filled with thoughts she would rather forget, thoughts of something she never expected to happen, or rather, of someone.

_Noire_

Her child...  
Her and Stahl's child...  
Their future child...  
She doesn't get along with children. She knows she is not cut out to be a mother.  
And yet, a child from the future, _her_ child, wanders on this camp. A child with her face and Stahl's coloring, from head to toe.  
A shy, frail girl, unable to do anything without shaking on the spot. She is powerful, yes, Tharja sensed it the very moment she first met her. Noire has a frightening amount of talent for the dark arts, but her heart is too weak. She tries to hide away from any form of confrontation with possible conflicts.

Her knuckles started turning white as she clenched the tiny white paper. Was there no way to give her more strength? No spells or curses she could cast on her to give her some sort of protection? Tharja was desperate to figure out what her future self was thinking, because right now, she was not herself.  
She had gotten so coped with with these thoughts the past few days that even Stahl had to try and stop her, which was obviously a dangerous and foolish thing to do, but he puts too much trust and faith in her to be afraid. He knows she couldn't possibly really hurt him. He was the one who gave her that idiotic love confession and said he _hungered for her with the passion of ten thousand dying suns_ after all. For her, wicked Tharja.  
In the end his plan back then had backfired.  
She cursed both of them.  
With a runny nose...

Tharja shook her head.  
She needed something... something '_more_', something that gave the girl confidence, a chance to act on her own without getting hurt.  
The talisman her future self had made, which she first thought was a masterpiece, turned out to be too weak and had too many flaws and unnecessary side-effects.  
If the future truly turns out as Lord Chrom's daughter, Lucina, foretold, then she knows she won't be able to do anything. Noire had told her.  
Stahl would _die_ and she, she would spend her last days trying to get revenge. Noire would be left alone and by foolishly trying to copy her, face the risks of teaching herse-

"_Tharja_"

Stahl's soft yet firm voice suddenly pulled her back to reality. His hand had tightly grabbed her shaking one, the one which held the tiny piece of paper, the new talisman she was making. She hadn't realised how her nails had been digging into her own hand, causing a tiny line of blood to flow down her fingers.  
When Stahl realized her mind was present again, he relaxed his hold on her hand and slipped his fingers between hers, not caring about the blood that now colored his fingers as well.  
She would never admit it, but she liked the feeling of his warm hand around her cold one. It was on that moment that she figured it out and when she did, she smiled.

"Judging from that smile, whatever was troubling you is gone, I hope?"  
_Are you going to face her?_ was the silent question he asked in his head.  
He may be a lazy, big eater, but he's not stupid. He had been carefully watching Tharja's and Noire's relationship from afar. Like the day he first watched Tharja, or 'spied' on her as she had implied.

She leaned back into his chest.  
"Mmh"

* * *

"_I've assembled the last of the implements for the rite, Mother. I'm finally going to learn to cast hexes. I'll make a useful assistant yet, just watch!_"

Tharja regarded her daughter with a stoic expression before looking down on the ground.

"_Er, Mother?_" Noire was never sure what to expect from her mother. The fact that she could finally be of some use to her, to not be forgotten, made her happy from the bottom of her heart. And if she did proove to be of use, then father would also not have to worry. So why was her mother silent all of a sudden?

Tharja lifted her face and remembered all of the thoughts that plagued her mind the past week.  
"_ ...I've changed my mind. There will be no rite tonight._"

Noire couldn't believe it. In the end, did she mean really nothing to her mother?  
"_What? But..._"

"_I won't be teaching you the dark arts. Now put those implements away_" based on her mother's tone, her decision was final.  
Her eyes gave a quick, last glance before she turned around, preparing to leave.

"_But why? Wh-what did I do? Do I lack the talent? Am I in your way?_" she wanted to know, needed to know.

Tharja stopped walking, but did not turn around face her.  
"_You have a frightening amount of talent. Your innate magical potential is vast. Even that talisman I made turned you into an entirely different person! One couldn't hope for a greater vessel to shape into a curse slinger. ...And you could never be in my way._"

"_Then why?_"

Tharja's hands turned into fists but relaxed a second later. She didn't need another bandaged hand. It was now or never.  
" _...I think I've come to understand the motives of my future self_" she finally sighed.

"_What?_" Noire didn't understand.

This time, Tharja slowly turned around and looked her in the eyes. Noire thought she was dreaming but, could it be? Was that a faint, sincere _smile_ on her mother's face?

"_I don't want you dealing in hexes. The dark arts carry with them tremendous risks. My future self knew as much..._"  
That's why I kept you away, away from me... If I were to loose even one more person then...

"_You think that she was worried for my safety? That...she loved me?_" Noire asked carefully, almost afraid.

"_Can't say. Not about her, at least. ...But I love you, if that helps._"

Noire's eyes widened "_Mother..._"

"_Just don't expect to me to say it often! ...Or maybe ever again. And just because hexes are off the table doesn't mean I have nothing to teach you._  
_There are more ways than hexing to skin a cat. ...Or other things. Heh. So pay attention, and try to follow along._"

"_Oh yes, ma'am!_"

* * *

Later that evening Tharja returned to her tent. It seemed like Stahl had cleaned up. The herbs had been carefully put back into the right jars, like only a professional apothecary would do. Her books had been neatly stacked up and the wood on her desk had been replaced. Said person sat casually on their bed, munching away a piece of bread he had probably stolen when no one else was around. He gave her an inviting smile when she entered.

"I suppose everything went well?"

"I don't know what you're talking about" she shrugged and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

He laughed, stood up and walked over to her. Tharja looked up. He was about a head taller than her and not to mention one of the most handsome men in the camp. Not that she would ever admit that...

"You're the first person I can't hide anything from, can I?"

"Does that mean I have beaten Robin?"

Tharja blushed "..good for nothing idiot.."

"I love you too."

"But really, next time you try to mess with my tools it won't be just a runny nose you'll be getting."

"That's okay, as long as you spare my lips."

Tharja blinked a few times and raised her eyebrow.  
"Your lips?"

He lowered his face to a dangerously close distance  
"Otherwise I won't be able to do this"  
and kissed her.

* * *

**Thank you for reading!**


End file.
